


Blame the Portal

by TheQueerestWriter



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Childhood Trauma, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, He doesn't want Bruce's love, He's pretty pissed about it, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason loses an arm, Medical Trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trauma, Traumatic Injury, except he really does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueerestWriter/pseuds/TheQueerestWriter
Summary: Magic shenanigans happen and Jason finds himself badly wounded in an alternate reality. This worlds Jason has just died and Bruce is shattered. How does Bruce handle loosing his son only to have an older, mentally and physically damaged Jason dumped into his lap? Will Dick be able to get over his anger with Bruce and help his brother? It's all angst!
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 33
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic shenanigans happen and Jason finds himself badly wounded in an alternate reality. This worlds Jason has just died and Bruce is shattered. How does Bruce handle loosing his son only to have an older, mentally and physically damaged Jason dumped into his lap? Will Dick be able to get over his anger with Bruce and help his brother? It's all angst!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I should be working on my other fics, but this one demanded I write it. If there's interest in it I'll continue it.

Jason groaned and opened his eyes, but he couldn't see much past the cracked surface of his helmet. He took stock of his injuries. His left leg burned in white hot agony, the bone shattered below the knee. His ribs ached, hopefully they were only bruised. His head throbbed and his vision swam. The worst thing by far though was his right arm. Just about every bone was crushed, and he was pretty sure every tendon in his shoulder was shredded. If he didn’t lose it, he’d think the fates were actually on his side for once, but he didn’t like his chances. Already he could feel blood oozing out of the wounds on the limb and pooling at his side. He didn’t have much time before he was unconscious. He needed to figure out where he was and get help, fast. 

Slowly, Jason tested his uninjured arm, and was happy to find he could flex his fingers without too much pain. Dragging his arm up to unlatch his helmet was like moving through molasses, but somehow, he managed to undo the clasp and drag the broken thing off his head, glass cutting his face as it was dragged over his skin. Without the broken visor, Jason could see where he was, and was surprised to find a familiar stone ceiling over his head. 

“The cave?” he croaked out, his voice destroyed from when the magic user had nearly choked him into unconsciousness. With much difficulty, he turned his head to the left, and found himself looking at the batmobile, but not one he immediately recognized. His brain was sluggish, he probably had a concussion, so it took him a moment to realize what was wrong with the vehicle. Finally, it clicked; it was many years out of date. In fact, it looked exactly like the one Jason last remembered driving around Gotham in, shortly before he was murdered. It took several more seconds for the implications of that to sink in. Jason sucked in a harsh breath when the realization hit him; he’d been sent to a universe that was still around the time he had been murdered. This world's Batman had either just lost Jason, or was about to. Normally, he would find this information more shattering, but he had more urgent things to worry about. 

He turned his head to the right, getting an eyeful of his mangled arm, but forcing himself to look past it to the bat computer. It was also several years out of date, but he should still be able to operate it. It would only take the press of a button to have the Bat rushing down. If this universe's Jason wasn’t dead yet, Batman would likely bring the entire cave’s medical supplies, and if he was, well, Jason didn’t want to think about the weapons that would likely be engaged. 

Slowly, painfully, Jason rolled himself over onto his hands and knees. His broken leg screamed in pain, and the agony that radiated from his arm had him seeing spots, but he managed to get into a position where he could use his mostly undamaged limbs to drag and push himself along the floor, leaving a bloody smear behind him. He nearly cried with frustration when he reached the handful of steps up to the computer. They might as well have been a mountain for the challenge they presented to Jason in his current state. His vision was already starting to fade, and he wasn’t sure he’d make it, but he was damn sure he wasn’t giving up yet. With gritted teeth, he pulled himself up the steps, biting back screams as his limp arm hit each and every step. 

Finally, he was just a few feet away from the console, and he forced himself to its base, his vision fading in and out, cold seeping into his bones as his blood drained out his arm. He had just one last hurdle to overcome. He just had to reach up and press the emergency alert button on the edge of the keyboard. He stretched, but with only one good arm, he couldn’t prop himself up high enough to reach. Thinking as fast as he could with his rapidly slowing thoughts, he noticed the swivel chair that sat in front of the computer. He reached for it, thinking he’d prop himself up on it, but when he tried to pull it toward himself, he slipped and only managed to shove it several feet away. 

Jason choked on a sob, tears slipping down his cheeks as the realization hit him that he might actually die here. He’d already beat death once, he didn’t think he’d get another resurrection. He tried to go for the chair again, but his limbs had stopped responding to his commands. He lay on the cold floor of the cave, head turned toward the button that would have been his salvation, as his thoughts slowed, and he drifted into unconsciousness.

  
  


…

Batman sat on the edge of Jason’s bed, a framed picture of the boy in his hands. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore, and often came in here to remember what’d he’d lost, who he’d lost. He’d lost him. He’d let his son die. 

A tear dripped down the man’s cheek as he gazed at the happy, smiling face of his boy, proudly hanging off the chandelier in the grand hall, grinning at the camera upside down. Bruce had scolded him and told him to get down, but just before he had, Alfred had snapped this photo, and it quickly became Bruce’s favorite picture of his son, though he hadn’t told anyone that. But somehow, Alfred had known, and had placed a framed copy in Bruce’s office, the very one that he now held, in Jason’s room, reminiscing about what he’d lost. 

“Sir?” Alfred asked, peeking his head through the door. Bruce barely glanced up, but he still noticed that the normally impeccable butler’s clothes look just a tiny bit mussed, like he hadn’t taken the time to straighten them properly. That tiny imperfection told Bruce just how destroyed the man was over their loss. 

“Yes?” Bruce choked out, his voice hollow and sore. 

“I have made dinner, if you would like to join me,” Alfred said, gently, as though speaking to a frightened child. Normally, Bruce would have hated hearing that tone directed at him, but right now, hearing the man who raised him, his father, speaking gently to him, settled something that had been roaring in his chest. 

“Okay. I’ll be down in a moment,” Bruce said. 

“Very well,” Alfred heard the request for another moment alone in those words, and left quietly down the hall. Slowly, Bruce set the picture down on the side table and stood from the bed. He made his way to the door and looked back at the room one more time, trying desperately not to think about how it would never be the home of his child again. He closed the door. 

Bruce passed his office on the way down to the kitchen, and an urge to go down into the batcave struck him. He hadn’t been down there since Jason’s funeral nearly a week ago, and something in his gut told him he needed to go down there now. He looked back down the hall towards the kitchen, debating. Alfred would understand if he was a few minutes late. He just wanted to quell this strange worry in his chest. He’d do a quick security sweep of the cave then come back up for dinner. 

Bruce entered the secret code into the clock and it slid aside, revealing the elevator. He took it down to the cave, that strange sense of urgency in his chest growing with each foot he descended. Finally, the door slid open to a silent, dim cave. 

Immediately, Bruce knew his gut had been right, something was very wrong. A trail of blood was streaked across the floor, as though someone had dragged a body. It started in the middle of the space, and led toward the computer out of Bruce’s line of sight. 

Bruce crouched, hiding in the shadows. He pulled a domino mask out of his pocket, slapped it over his eyes, and slowly crept toward the computer. Once it was in sight, he noticed the body lying at the computer's base, a growing pool of blood around them. 

“Who are you?” Bruce called, his voice deepening into Batman’s gravel. But the body on the floor didn’t move, not even a twitch to show that they’d heard. Bruce took that as a sign that the man was unconscious, because it was definitely a man, broad chested and tall. Bruce went to his side, and sucked in a breath at the sight before him. The man’s right arm looked nearly torn off, and his left foot was turned at an unnatural angle, the lower leg broken. But it was his face that really threw Bruce. He almost recognized it, and it took him a second to realize why. Then it hit him, he looked exactly how Bruce imagined Jason would look grown. The same brow and nose, same sharp chin. 

“Jason?!” Bruce cried, unsure how or why this was happening, but absolutely certain this was his son, and doubly sure that if he didn’t do something immediately he would lose him a second time. Bruce slapped the emergency button on the computer, the same one Jason had been going for just minutes ago, and Alfred’s voice immediately came over the coms. 

“Sir?” he asked, his tone shaken. 

“Alfred!” Bruce cried, his voice raw. “Get down here right now! I need urgent medical attention, call Leslie too!” Bruce could hear Alfred running through the halls, leaving the kitchen behind and heading for the office. 

“What has happened?” Alfred asked, worry and fear creeping into his voice. “Are you alright?”   
  


“I’m fine,” Bruce bit out, reaching down and trying to find Jason’s pulse. After a moment of terror, he found it, though it was very weak. Bruce tore his shirt off, buttons flying, and wrapped it around Jason’s torn shoulder, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. 

“Then what is the matter?” Alfred asked. 

“It’s Jason,” Bruce answered. He heard Alfred stop in his tracks and wanted to scream at the man to hurry. 

“What?” Alfred breathed, the word barely a whisper. 

“It’s Jason dammit!” Bruce shouted. “I don’t know why or how, but it’s my son and he’s dying again!” Bruce could hear Alfred moving, rushing. 

“I’m calling Dr. Thompkins now,” Alfred said shortly, and hung up. Bruce turned his attention back to the dying man. He knew moving him could cause more damage, but he needed to get him into medical and start a blood transfusion if he wanted to keep him alive for more than a few minutes. So, as carefully as he could, he lifted the man into his arms, uncaring of the blood that stained his white undershirt, and hurried him to the medical room attached to the cave. 

Bruce had to cut off the leather jacket and Batman issue body suit to get at the man’s arm to insert the needle for the blood transfusion, and by the time he’d managed that, Alfred had arrived. He washed his hands up to his elbow and gloved up. 

“Dr. Tompkins is on her way,” Alfred said, his voice calmer than Bruce had heard in days. He knew the man was shoving all emotions away to focus on saving Jason’s life, but it was still a little frightening to hear him sound so uncaring. 

“You should wash up sir,” Alfred suggested, and Bruce did as he was told. Together, they did what they could for Jason, stripping him out of the rest of his clothes. The body suit gave them trouble. It was nearly identical to the one Batman wore, and was made to only be removed by the wearer to prevent any, nefarious acts. As they worked, Bruce saw numerous scars littering Jason’s body, but didn’t give himself time to ponder their origin. Keeping his son alive was more important. 

By the time Dr. Thompkins arrived, they’d managed to get Jason completely undressed and were treating his wounds as best they could, though, they hadn’t done much more for his arm then stop further bleeding. Alfred had washed some of the blood off his face and hair, revealing a white streak in the man’s bangs.

  
  


“Who is that?” Leslie breathed, nearly dropping her medical bag. 

“It’s Jason” Bruce growled.

“But,” she started. 

“I know,” Bruce answered her unspoken question. “I don’t understand it yet, but I have a few theories.” 

“And what are those?” she asked, setting her bag down and washing her hands. Bruce knew she was trying to distract him, to keep his mind from worry, and he was glad for it. 

“Alternate dimension,” Bruce grumbled. 

“Really?” Leslie asked, pulling on gloves and coming over to examine Jason. “How is he?”

“Stable,” Bruce admitted. “But I don’t know if you can save his arm.” Leslie peeled back the gauze and bandages stuffed into the wound where his arm met his shoulder, and sucked in a breath. 

“Have you x-rayed it?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” Bruce admitted. 

“Let’s do that,” she decided. She gently lifted the arm and felt down it’s length. “It looks like the bones are shattered and may not be savable. And if they aren’t, there’s no point attempting to reattach the arm.” The men nodded solemnly, and went about getting the x-ray set up. All three stepped out of the room while the scans were taken, then came back to look at the results. As feared, every bone in the arm was shattered to splinters. They’d cut through the arteries and internal bleeding was going to be a problem as soon as they reattached the veins in his shoulder. There was no saving the limb. With a heavy air hanging over them, Bruce and Alfred helped Leslie remove what was left of Jason’s right arm. 

…

Bruce sat in a chair by Jason’s bed in medical. It’d been 24 hours since the man had appeared in the batcave, and Bruce had watched the footage of his appearance over and over again. With a flash of blue light, he’d materialized on the floor of the Batcave. Then Bruce had watched as his son agonizingly dragged himself toward the computer, and the button on the console. The button that would have summoned Bruce to his aid. It pained Bruce to watch his son fail to reach salvation on his own, to watch his wounded body succumb to his injuries just inches away from knowing he would be okay.

But he would be okay. Some force had drawn Bruce down into the cave, or maybe it had just been luck. It looked like this Jason had been very lucky, very often. His body was absolutely covered in scars, many that should have been fatal. There was one on his neck, right across his throat, that should not have been survivable. And he had what could only be described as an autopsy scar across his chest, but that didn’t make sense. Why would a living man have an autopsy scar? Bruce shook his head to clear the dark thoughts from his mind. He’d taken a sample of Jason’s blood from what was left of his right arm, which was currently running through several tests in the Batcave’s lab. Bruce needed to know everything he could about this Jason if he was going to help him. 

Jason stirred a little in his sleep, murmuring something that Bruce couldn’t hear. Gently, Bruce squeezed his son’s hand, and the man settled back into a better dream. Bruce looked again at the place where Jason’s right arm should be. He felt a deep guilt for the loss, though he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. However, this alternate world’s Batman should have. Unless that world had lost their Batman, but Bruce had a hard time believing that. He was too careful, to prepare for something like that to happen. But something had happened to this Jason, too many somethings by the look of it, and Bruce didn’t like it. He hoped that there wasn’t as much mental damage as there was physical, he hoped this other world’s Bruce had done a better job raising this Jason than Bruce had his own. But something told him that that man had failed at being a father even more than Bruce had with his own children. 

That was when Bruce remembered he had a second child, one who should be arriving back on earth from his mission today, and Bruce hadn’t told him yet that his brother was dead. And now, he’d have to add this new Jason to the list of things he had to tell his eldest. Bruce dragged his phone from his pocket and looked at the time. It was nearly five in the evening, and Dick should be back on earth by now. With a deep breath, he pressed the button to call his son. 

“What Bruce?” Dick demanded, his anger still fresh in his voice. 

“Son,” Bruce breathed, letting all his emotions through with that word, begging his son to hear the fear, sadness, and confusion in his voice and not fight back too hard. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked, gentler this time. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason,” Bruce breathed, fighting back tears. Just because he had Jason back in this older, alternate dimension version, did not soften the pain still in his heart at the loss of  _ his _ Jason.

“What happened?” Dick asked. “I’m on my way.” 

“Dick,” Bruce tried again. “He’s... I…” He didn’t have the words. 

“I’m coming Bruce,” Dick said, firmer this time. “I’ll be there in a few hours, just hang on.” And before Bruce could try again, his son hung up the phone. 

Bruce stared at the small device in his lap for a long time, lamenting his failure to just spit it out. He’d still have to tell Dick their Jason was gone, now he would just have a few more hours to dread it. That was how Alfred found him a short time later, a tray of food in his arms. 

“I have brought dinner sir. I didn’t think you would leave his side,” he said, looking knowingly at the man asleep in the bed. 

“I called Dick,” Bruce admitted. 

“Oh?” Alfred said, the question clear. 

“He’s on his way,” Bruce said. “I... I wasn’t able to tell him.” Alfred set the tray on a table and gripped Bruce’s shoulder firmly. 

“We’ll tell him together,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Bruce breathed. 

“You’re very welcome. Now, you must eat something sir. You must keep your strength up.” Bruce accepted the food and ate automatically, barely registering what he was eating. Alfred stayed by his side. The dread in Bruce’s gut grew with every moment that passed, till finally, they both heard the sound of a vehicle enter the cave. 

“Bruce!” Dick called, and with a deep breath, the two men rose to greet the hero, and give him the horrible news. 

…

Dick didn’t know what had happened to his brother, but every moment on the drive over had been agony. He’d remembered every time he’d failed the boy. Jason had only wanted a brother, and Dick knew he hadn’t been doing a very good job of it. He was mad at Bruce for being too overprotective, for not wanting him to leave the nest, and Jason had been the casualty of that anger. Dick had told himself there would be time later to fix it, time to start over, once Bruce apologized. But, now, something had happened to Jason, and Dick had cut Bruce off before he’d gotten a chance to say what it was. He hadn’t wanted to hear it yet. 

Dick was regretting that decision now as he neared the manor. The fear and worry in his gut had grown and grown, eating away at him. He’d not even had the time to change out of his Nightwing costume before he’d thrown himself into the Titan’s car, so he pulled into the Batcave to avoid unwanted attention. As soon as the car was off, Dick threw himself out, calling for Bruce. 

His father and Alfred appeared from medical, and Dick’s heart sank further. 

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over. He tried to see into the room, but Bruce blocked his view. 

“Dick,” he said gently, and Dick saw the tears in his father's eyes. 

“Where’s Jason?” Dick demanded. Bruce brought his arms up to grasp Dick’s, but he shoved off the motion. He didn’t want comfort from the man right now, not before he understood what was happening. 

“Is he okay?” Dick demanded. 

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, firmly, but gently. “Jason is dead.” 

The words hit Dick like a blow. He stumbled back, hands going to his chest where his heart felt like it had been stabbed. 

“What?” he managed to choke out. 

“He’s dead,” Bruce confirmed, tears spilling out his eyes. “The Joker killed him.”

“What?” Dick repeated, the word a gasp. It just couldn’t be true. What about how he was going to make it up to Jason? To actually be a brother to him? He was going to offer him a spot on the Teen Titans soon. Give him a chance to get out of Bruce’s shadow. Now he was dead? How could Dick do any of that if he was dead?

“I want to see him,” Dick said, firmly. Bruce nodded solemnly. 

“I’ll take you to his grave,” he said. Dick’s brain stuttered at that. He looked at the blood soaked shirt Bruce was still wearing. He remembered how the man had just come out of the medical room. He’d thought Jason had just died, just passed away. Now to learn he’d been dead long enough to bury? The two things could not be reconciled. 

“But?” Dick scrambled for a way to voice his thoughts. Anger swirled in his gut that Bruce hadn’t called to let him know Jason had died sooner, that he hadn’t waited till he got home for the funeral. But that anger was tempered by the confusion about the identity of the owner of the blood on Bruce’s shirt. 

“Unfortunately, we have more disturbing news,” Alfred said, and Dick wanted to sit down, but he kept his feet. 

“Something unusual has happened,” Bruce added, and Dick couldn’t take the suspense any more. He shoved past the two men and marched into the medical room. He got one look at the man on the bed and sank into the closest chair, his legs giving out. 

“Jason?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the man’s face, but the question was clearly directed at Bruce. 

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

“How?” Dick asked, unable to form any more words. 

“We’re operating under the assumption he’s from an alternate dimension,” Bruce explained, and Dick was sure his brain was going to explode. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the way, this fic was kinda inspired by The Time that was Erased by StarryStories2. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584813/chapters/64815643 
> 
> Check them out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand!

Consciousness came in bits to Jason. First he heard rustling around him, bodies at rest, waiting and watching. But the presences were familiar, comforting. Second, he registered the smells, medical and clean. Third, he noticed the feeling. His body floated, as if on water, but when he shifted, everything hurt, except for his right arm, that he couldn’t feel at all. He didn’t think that was a good sign. 

Finally he opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it as the lights burned his eyes and his head screamed in pain. He closed his eyes tight, but the motion didn’t go unnoticed by the person watching him. 

“Jay?” a familiar voice asked. Jason was pretty sure it was Bruce, but he sounded worn out. Bruce never sounded worn out. He never sounded anything except disappointed in Jason. But if it was Bruce, that meant Jason was at the manor, and that thought sent a bolt of fear and anger down Jason’s spine. He didn’t want to be here, wasn’t welcome here. He needed to leave right now. 

Jason forced his eyes back open, squinting against the light, and tried to raise his right hand to shield his eyes, but the limb didn’t obey his command. He used his other arm instead, but didn’t make it far before a large, warm hand clamped around his wrist and with no difficulty, forced his arm back down. 

“You shouldn’t move yet,” Bruce warned, and Jason hated that it sounded gentle. Since when was Bruce gentle with him? With Damian yes. With Dick and even the replacement Bruce could be less than stern, but not with Jason.

“Fuck off me,” Jason murmured, his words coming out quieter than he meant them too. Bruce let go of his wrist. 

“You’re very badly hurt,” Bruce explained. “You need to stay still.”

“‘M fine,” Jason slurred, and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. If he had a concussion, he really would be stuck in the manor for a few days at least. At least that would explain the sensitivity to light. 

“I’m going to give you something to help you sleep,” Bruce said, and Jason tried to protest, but before he’d gotten his sluggish limbs under control, warm sleep filled his veins, and he drifted back under. 

…

Bruce had tried to send Dick to bed, but the 17 year old insisted on staying in the medical room till Jason was awake. He’d quickly fallen asleep in the chair opposite Bruce by Jason’s bedside. He stayed asleep when Jason first woke, confused, groggy, and foul mouthed. Bruce quickly drugged him back to unconsciousness. 

Bruce stood, content that his sons would sleep for a few more hours at least, and went out into the cave to learn the results of his tests on this Jason’s blood. He pulled up the report on the computer, and looked them over. Most of what he’d been expecting appeared on the screen. This man’s DNA was the exact same as his Jason’s. His blood type was the same. But there were several abnormalities that Bruce didn’t fully understand. He'd already noticed that this Jason ran a few degrees colder than was normal, and his eyes were more green than his Jason’s had been. Add to that the streak of white in his bangs, and it was clear something traumatic had happened to his body as a whole, but what that was Bruce had yet to determine. 

He’d also found the broken helmet where it’d rolled against a wall, shoved there by Jason’s frantic crawling. It had some electronics in it, and while the visor had been smashed by whatever had crushed the man, the electronics themselves were intact. Thus, Bruce had plugged it into his computer, and was busy trying to get past the heavy security. 

Time flew as Bruce worked.

“Bruce?” a groggy voice behind him asked, and he turned from the computer screen to find Dick behind him, rubbing his eyes. 

“I thought you were asleep big bird,” Bruce said softly. 

“I was,” Dick yawned. “But then I woke up and you were gone.”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “Jason stirred to half consciousness so I gave him something to put him back to sleep. Didn’t think either of you would wake for a while.” Dick nodded at that and came to squint at the computer with him. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked after a moment. 

“The results of some tests I did on this Jason’s blood,” he explained. 

“Trying to figure him out?” Dick teased. 

“Yes,” Bruce admitted, totally serious. 

“Find anything?” Dick asked after a moment of quiet. 

“Nothing I understand yet,” he explained. “He’s definitely a version of Jason, the DNA is a match, but there’s a lot here that is abnormal.” 

“Doesn’t that just describe our lives, abnormal,” Dick said in a dry tone. Bruce grunted in agreement. And that’s when the machines in the medical room started to scream. 

…

Drugs didn’t work on Jason like they were supposed to anymore, not since his dip in the Lazarus pit. Sedatives didn’t keep him down like they should. It’d been a useful trick on the job. When villains tried to dose him with tranquilizers or other drugs, it didn’t put him under for long. And now, just a short time after Bruce had tried to knock him out, Jason found himself awake again, head clearer than before. 

He remembered some of what had happened to land him here. He remembered fighting a magic user and getting pulled through a portal. He vaguely remembered crawling across the cave floor, trying to get help, but couldn’t quite remember what he’d been trying to reach. Now though, he found himself alone in the medical room, and he forced himself to sit up.

He pushed himself up with his left arm, his right one still not responding, and looked around the room. It looked identical to the one in his world, and he found that somewhat unsettling. He pressed himself back against the headboard for support and reached around to touch his right arm, trying to figure out why he still couldn’t feel it. His hand found only empty air. Suddenly frantic, he looked down, and saw that his right arm was gone. 

Panic surged in his veins, adrenaline pumping, and he scrambled off the bed, as if trying to get away from the sight of his missing arm. He found his feet somehow, but his movements yanked out his IV, which fucking hurt, and the heart monitor on his finger fell off. Electronic screaming filled his ears. Jason only made it a few steps away from the bed before his broken leg gave out and he collapsed to the floor. 

The door burst open, and a young Bruce rushed in, followed by an equally young Dick. 

“Jason! Are you okay?” Bruce asked, frantically crouching down and lifting Jason up as though he weighed nothing. 

“The fuck happened to my arm?” Jason demanded as Bruce set him back on the bed and went about setting the medical equipment to rights. 

“I’m sorry son, we weren't able to save it,” Bruce explained gently. 

“‘M not your son,” Jason mumbled. He saw his words land like a punch to Bruce’s gut, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t his Bruce. 

“Jay,” Dick murmured from where he still stood in the doorway, and Jason glared at him. 

“Since you’re back on earth I’m assuming I’m already dead in this universe?” and he saw both men flinch, answering his question. Jason snorted. “Figures.” 

“Jason,” Bruce said gently, and Jason threw a punch at his face, but his movement was sluggish and Bruce easily dodged. 

“Fuck you,” Jason growled, and lay back down, closing his eyes and pointedly ignoring the two men in the room, till he drifted back to sleep. 

…

“Well that went well,” Dick muttered once they’d stepped out of the room. Bruce scrubbed at his face with his hands and tugged his hair. 

“It’s worse than I feared,” he groaned. 

“What is?” Dick asked. 

“I don’t think this Jason has been treated well by his Bruce,” Bruce explained. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Dick muttered, crossing his arms. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bruce asked, a warning in his voice. 

“Only that our Jason wasn’t treated right either,” Dick grumbled. He expected Bruce’s anger to flare, for him to start throwing words like punches, but he only sighed deeply and slumped against the wall. 

“You’re right,” Bruce admitted. “I haven’t been a very good father to either of you. I’m sorry.” Dick could hardly believe his ears. Bruce was, apologizing? Bruce didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in his nature. 

“Thank you,” Dick said after a moment. He’d been waiting for months to hear those words. It was wrong that Jason had to die for Dick to hear them, but at least there was still hope that Bruce could change. After all, this Jason was going to need a kind hand. 

  
  


“I’m going to need your help to learn how to be a better father,” Bruce admitted, and Dick nodded firmly. 

“I’ll do my best,” he said, and Bruce smiled warmly at him, melting the anger in his heart. 

…

Jason sat stiffly as this world's Alfred changed his bandages, glaring at the wallpaper of the room they’d moved him to in the manor proper. Despite his desire to fight and demand they let him do the work himself, Jason couldn’t bear being cruel to this man, regardless of the universe.

He’d been here a week now, and he hated every minute of it. This Bruce was too kind, and Dick too eager to be friends. They wouldn’t leave him _alone_! He needed room to breathe dammit! 

“Is this too tight Master Jason?” Alfred asked as he tightened the bandage around Jason’s shoulder. 

“It’s fine Alfi,” Jason grumbled. He glared at the plaster cast on his leg. He’d already tried begging crutches off Alfred, and demanding them from the Dick and Bruce, but they’d all refused him on the reason that he only had one arm, and thus crutches wouldn’t be effective. If he wanted to get around, he was going to have to use a wheelchair. But that presented the same problem, you needed two hands to operate a wheelchair, or else you’d just go in circles. Unless he got an electric one, or had someone push him around. Jason’s pride hadn’t broken enough for either option, _yet_.

“How’s it going Alfred?” Dick asked, poking his head into the room. Jason looked up at the ceiling and groaned. 

“Almost done Master Dick,” Alfred said politely. 

“Awesome!” Dick exclaimed, and bounced into the room without permission, and sat himself on the end of Jason’s bed. Jason lifted his good foot and kicked him. Dick yelped, but before Jason could kick him again, he scooted out of reach. 

“Guess what Jay!” Dick said, his joy syrupy. 

“Jason,” Jason corrected with a growl. Dick just rolled his eyes, they'd been fighting this battle all week. 

“Guess what,” Dick urged. 

“You’ve finally realized I don’t like you and are going to leave me alone?” Jason guessed. Dick just rolled his eyes again and didn’t look even a little bit upset. 

“No, Bruce got in contact with a company that makes full arm prosthetics! They’ve agreed to work with Wayne Enterprises to make you the coolest arm ever!” Dick exclaimed, throwing his arms out so wide he lost his balance and fell backward on the end of the bed. 

“All done Master Jason,” Alfred said, finishing up the bandage and standing. “I will bring you lunch shortly.” Alfred left the room, leaving Jason to bare Dick’s enthusiasm without a barrier. 

“Isn’t that exciting?” Dick asked, sitting back up, his enthusiasm finally showing a hint of a crack. 

“Not really,” Jason shrugged. Dick’s happy expression fell a little. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Because I’m not going to use it,” Jason explained, picking up his book from where he left it on the side table and opening it. He was glad he had so much practice reading one handed from that time he broke his fingers.

“Jay,” Dick sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. 

“It’s Jason,” Jason growled, not looking up from his book. 

“We’re just trying to help,” Dick whined. Jason didn’t look at him, knowing he’d see the signature Dick Grayson puppy dog eyes. 

“Well I don’t want your help,” Jason said simply. 

“Why not?” Dick asked, the pout clear in his voice. 

“Because you’re not my family,” Jason said coldly. Dick didn’t say anything for a minute. 

“Who hurt you?” he finally asked. Jason lowered his book to glare. They’d been trying to get him to talk about himself all week, and he’d been refusing. He didn’t owe these people his life story. 

“Fuck off Dick face,” Jason growled. Jason refused to look up from his book, as Dick slipped off his bed, and out the door. He knew he’d hurt the guy’s feelings, but he didn’t care. This Dick wasn’t his brother. 

…

Bruce sat in front of the Bat computer, trying to find a way to send Jason back to his universe. So far, he wasn’t having any luck. His thoughts were interrupted when Dick loudly entered the cave.

“How’d it go?” Bruce asked, without looking away from the screen. Dick sighed dramatically and sat down on the console, careful not to press any buttons. Bruce glanced at him and saw the look on his face. He folded his hands in his lap and turned to fully face his son. 

“That bad?” Bruce asked. 

“He doesn’t want help!” Dick exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Bruce reached out and pet Dick’s knee. 

“He doesn’t trust us yet,” Bruce explained. 

“But it’s been a week! And he still won’t tell me anything about himself. I don’t even know how old he is,” Dick whined. Bruce thought back to the last encounter he’d had with the man two days ago. There’d been a lot of screaming and thrown objects. Jason had done all the throwing. Bruce had been trying to give the man space, but Dick was right, he still wasn’t giving them anything to work with. Bruce needed to understand the man’s trauma if he was going to be able to help. But so far, he didn’t want their help. 

“You told him about the prosthetic?” Bruce asked.

“Yes! But he said he wasn’t going to use it,” Dick exclaimed. 

“It’s okay son,” Bruce said, patting his knee again. “We just have to keep trying. All we can do is show Jason we’re good people and hope he realizes we just want to help.” 

“I’m not sure we are good people,” Dick grumbled, a tear slipping down his cheek. 

“Son,” Bruce said gently, and opened his arms for a hug. Despite being too big for it, Dick climbed into his lap, something he hadn’t done in years. 

“It’s okay,” Bruce said into his son’s hair. 

“We let him die,” Dick sobbed, burying his face in Bruce’s shirt. 

“Hush,” Bruce cooed. He’d had several conversations with Dinah over the last week about where he’d gone wrong raising his boys, and she’d told him repeatedly that he had to let them be open with their emotions around him. He needed to be a safe place for them to express themselves and let it out. He was trying this with Dick, and so far he’d been sobbed on three times. He could only hope this was progress 

“We should have saved him,” Dick sobbed, and Bruce couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down his own face and landed in Dick’s hair. 

“I know love,” he said, trying out the pet name. “We failed him. But we won’t fail this Jason. I promise you, we won’t fail him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a lot of practice yet writing soft Bruce, so please be gentle. This story is more of a pet project than my other work, so don’t expect consistent chapter lengths. Some might be very short, and some might be very long, it all depends. Let me know what you think!


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